


i'm not done yet (falling for you)

by blankiehxrry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, Fluff, Insecure Harry, Kid Fic, M/M, Single Parent Harry, Smut, Teacher Louis, Top Louis, i havent posted a fic in so long so idk how to tag, im just trying to end the bh drought, of course
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-12 13:17:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9073498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blankiehxrry/pseuds/blankiehxrry
Summary: Single dad Harry just wants someone to love him and his daughter. Thankfully, Louis has lots of love to give.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> holy heck i haven't posted a fic in so long i don't even know how to do it anymore. ive been working on this fic intermittently for a while and it's not finished but i figured theres barely any larry fic being posted anymore so i hope what i have written entertains you and (hopefully) encourages me to write more.

“There we are,” Harry coos softly, making certain to be as gentle as possible as he extracts his pointer finger from the strong-willed grip of his seven-month-old. Even in her sleep, Gracie is still as stubborn as ever, unwilling to be separated from her daddy for even a second. 

 

As soon as he has all of his limbs back in his possession, he tiptoes quietly out of  t heir shared bedroom and shuts the door with the precision of - well, a father who doesn’t want to wake his fussing daughter. 

 

Now that the lengthy bedtime routine is complete, Harry heaves a deep sigh and stretches his arms above his head, the individual knobs of his spine sighing in relief and settling together like plates in the earth. His toes curl satisfactorily into the worn carpet, stained with memories and baby formula. He shuffles his socked feet over to the tiny kitchenette and grabs the last lone wineglass on the highest shelf. There’s still a bit of red leftover from when he was testing out a new marinade for his pork cutlets and it’s been one of those days where he needs to coat his insides with something warm and thick to cover up the stress he feels.

 

With his full glass, Harry traipses over to the couch and settles into the most worn cushion in the center, the spot that holds the best view of the television and one that he reserves only for when he isn’t holding Gracie, as he likes to sit with her on the end where there’s an armrest for support. He grabs the remote and surfs through the channels for a bit, settling on a rerun of Chopped. He’s already seen it, but he’s still interested in finding out the recipe one of the chefs uses to make the garlic mashed potatoes. 

 

Just as Ted Allen’s voice begins to lull Harry to sleep, his phone buzzes obnoxiously in the otherwise quiet living room. He blinks his half-lidded eyes and absently pats his hands on either side of the couch, fingers scanning the curvature of the soft brown leather as he feels out for his phone. He finds it in the cracks between two of the cushions and curses quietly when it lights up and stings his eyes. He bypasses his lockscreen of him and Gracie from their family picnic at the beginning of summer and types in his passcode, bleary eyes just barely making out the message he finds waiting in his inbox.

 

_ transferred the $$ to your account tonight. should find it there by the morning. S.  _

 

Ah, Sarah. Harry never thought he’d be excited to see her name flash on his phone, but he finds himself ecstatic on the last day of every month when he sees she’s transferred over the money for child support. It’s been a particularly long week of instant meals and one-ply toilet paper. The sacrifices he makes so Gracie has the pricey formula she needs. 

 

**ta xx. appreciate it.**

 

She doesn’t reply but she rarely does when she isn’t obligated. Harry isn’t offended either, has come to accept that she never wanted this life for herself and to not expect her to want to know too much. Once, drunkenly, Sarah admitted that she hates texting Harry for fear she’ll get sucked in and find herself asking too many questions. Harry, who, at the time was angry and also drunk, snapped back that it wouldn’t hurt anyone to give two shits about her own daughter, but in the sober light of day he can admit that he understands she has her reasons. 

 

Presently, Harry eyes the clock and notes that he has to get up early tomorrow to take Gracie to the nursery before his shift at the bakery. He pushes himself up from the couch and heads into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. He avidly ignores the tired bags under his eyes, purple like a bruise and permanent like a freckle. He strips down to his boxers and tosses the rest of his clothes into the hamper beside the toilet. He learned long ago that he can’t undress in the bedroom unless he wants Gracie to wake up and cry for an hour. 

 

He shuts off the lights in the hall before he blindly stumbles into the bedroom and searches for the edge of his mattress. Like clockwork, his shin collides with the metal frame of the bed and he slaps a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming out any obscenities. Limping, he hobbles the rest of the way to his side of the bed and spares a glance at his daughter - still sleeping, thank God - before he pulls back the soft jersey sheets and slips under them. 

 

As Harry tries to fall asleep, highly aware of the warm throb of his leg under the covers, he says a little prayer of thanks for another successful day with Gracie. He’s far from religious, hasn’t been to church since his early childhood, but he believes in karma and some sort of higher power, and finds he must owe someone for helping him get through the day with minimal meltdowns from either Gracie or himself. 

 

Finally satisfied, Harry lets himself fall asleep with a smile on his face, soothed by the gentle snuffles coming from the bassinet beside him. 

 

*

“ _ As for the weather, prepare yourselves for a hot one! Sweltering heat will hit London the next few days, so break out your sunnies and best, biggest hats!” _

 

As he rushes past the clock radio, Harry groans and heads back into the bedroom to add sunscreen to the list of never-ending things that Gracie needs packed in her bag for daycare. The aforementioned troublemaker sits in her crib, flashing her wet gums at her daddy and melting his heart. 

 

“My little sugarplum,” he exclaims. Forgetting what he was doing just moments ago, Harry bustles over and plucks Gracie out of her bed and presses her to his chest. She nestles her little downy head into the warm heat of the juncture between his neck and shoulder and nibbles softly at his skin. Harry grabs one of her tiny fists in his hand and gives her three smacking kisses before twirling them around the room and laying her on his bed. He piles a few pillows around her so that there’s no risk of her rolling onto the floor and resumes packing her bag.

 

Once he’s gathered everything he needs, he dresses his daughter in miniature cotton overalls, a gift from Perrie, and tiny white sneakers with with the soft soles because really, they’re only for decoration. He spends five minutes searching for his sunglasses before he remembers they’re on his head and finally, after he’s plopped a tiny yellow sunhat on Gracie’s head, they’re ready to head out the door. 

 

Though his and Gracie’s flat is quite small and holds no room for privacy, Harry is endlessly grateful that it’s within walking distance of both Gracie’s daycare and his work. The walk is both scenic and quiet, and though the weatherman promised it would be a hot day, the air still holds a bit of the morning chill as he adjusts his hold on Gracie through his baby bjorn carrier.

 

He hums a nonsensical tune under his breath to calm Gracie and tightens his grip on his book bag slung on his right shoulder. It’s only about two blocks to the daycare, and they arrive with two minutes to spare before check-in time. He shoulders his way through the door and up to the front desk where the receptionist sits. 

 

“Mr. Styles and little Miss Gracie! Good morning to you both,” Jade says warmly. She wiggles her fingers at Gracie and laughs as the little girl shrieks and kicks her feet out, barely missing Harry’s gut. 

 

“She’s a little ball of energy this morning, I’m afraid,” Harry says as he check his watch for the correct time to log in the book. 

 

“Nothing to be afraid of; we love energy, don’t we Miss Gracie?” 

 

Jade stands up and skirts her way around the desk to help Harry untangle her from her carrier and swoops Gracie into her arms. “We love a good bit of energy, don’t we, my sweet?” She tickles Gracie’s round belly and pinches her chubby cheek. 

 

“Do you know who’s working today?” Harry says, wringing his hands together nervously. “I wanted to remind them to put sunscreen on Gracie before lunchtime and again after four. And to keep her hat on all day. The radio said it’d be hot out and she can’t be in the sun for too long or else -“

 

“Harry,” Jade laughs, stroking down his arm with her stiletto nails. “Don’t stress; you know we’ll take great care of your little girl. She always comes home to you just as she was before you dropped her off, yes?” 

 

“Well, yeah,” Harry admits, scratching the back of his neck. “I just - she’s everything.”

 

“And we totally understand that. Which is why we’ll make sure that Gracie is all sunscreened up before we take her outside in the pram or to splash her feet in the tiny pool out back. Which we won’t do unless you’re comfortable with it,” she adds in hastily, seeing the panicked look on Harry’s face. 

 

“You’re right; I trust you guys,” Harry says honestly. He reaches out to give Gracie one last kiss. He gets a whiff of her Johnson & Johnson baby shampoo as he leans back and he finds himself trying to swallow past a lump in his throat. She blinks up at him curiously as if to say  _ what’s got you so worried, daddy? _

 

Harry gives himself one more minute to idle and stall for time before he has to leave, handing over Gracie’s bag to Jade and hitching his own higher up on his shoulder. As he walks out the front doors, he spares one backwards glance to find that Gracie and Jade have already left to go to the back room where the other babies will be. He knows it’s for his own benefit, so he won’t get even more worked up, but he still feels a swell of panic at entrusting someone else to take care of his pride and joy while he’s gone. 

 

-

 

The day at the bakery goes by slowly as per usual, with Barbara convincing Harry all throughout his lunch break that he doesn’t need to swing by the daycare to check on Gracie and it’s unnecessary to call to see how she is. He’s not like this every day, honestly, but there are times when Harry breaks out his over-protective dad costume and wears it a little too well. 

 

It’s only been a month or so since he’s started back up full-time at the bakery and had to send Gracie off to the nursery. He was only working part-time before, could afford to ask his mum to come down a few days a week and babysit while he was away. There was no issue of handing over his trust, not until now. There’s also a bit of frustration in handing Gracie over to strangers five days a week. Harry’s constantly angry at himself that he can’t just take time off to be with his daughter or find a job that allows him to work from home. He’s angry he can’t manage to make it all work within the parameters that life has provided him with. It’s all a bit unfair. 

 

“You know, this is just the hormones talking,” Barbara tells him at the end of the day, referring for his constant need to know what Gracie is doing. “They do tend to heighten after pregnancy.” 

 

“Ha ha,” Harry says dryly. He finishes measuring out the ingredients for the next day before  he heads to the industrial sink and rinses his hands.  Once done, pops into the back room where he grabs his bag and checks his phone. He has one text from his mum, checking in and wondering when she can stop by to visit, and another text from Jade with an attached picture of Gracie sitting in a high chair, baby food smeared all over her face. It’s captioned ‘ _ Don’t worry Pops, we’ll clean up after we’re done having fun!!!! xx’ _ .

 

He replies to his mum -  **anytime, you know we’re always around** \- and decides skips over a response to Jade as he’s on his way to see her and his daughter anyways. 

 

He calls out his goodbye to Barbara who’s still working the register and heads out the back door that spills him right out onto the road that’ll take him straight to his whole little world. As he passes by the sleepy shops and tall, worn flat complexes, he takes time to admire the little slice of everything he’s wormed his way into the middle of. Harry takes comfort in the fact that he knows the owners of the flower shop that neighbors his workplace and the children that are always playing footie in the grassy patch that sits on the corner of the street. He’s reminded of good things when he sees the elderly woman on the second story of his building whose window is perpetually open and cluttered with laundry on hangers, shivering when the wind hits their damp spots. He appreciates that most everyone on the street knows who Gracie is and makes an effort to say hello when they’re walking past. 

 

It’s home, is what it is. Not just his bed that he never makes or the little nook by the window that overlooks the alley between bricks where the dust settles thick. It’s not just his tiny sink where he washes Gracie or the threadbare blanket he lets her hold onto at night that once belonged to him. It’s this little universe he’s created to revolve around his daughter, the galaxy he’s summoned by gathering this endless support and care and love and injecting it into the bloodstream of the most important thing he’s created. The elements have managed to accommodate Harry’s whole life into a tiny, compact sphere, right in the middle of England. 

 

It’s a lot to think about on a hot Monday, but it still rings true in Harry’s head as he pushes open the door to the nursery and, upon seeing the front desk empty, heads into the back where the children play. As the receptionist, Jade’s only real job is to help parents fill out the attendance slip and to inform them that their child’s been biting the nose of one too many of their classmates. Regardless, Harry’s under the impression that she spends most of her days with the other teachers taking care of the infants. 

 

Harry stops once he reaches the next door that will echo the click of his heart once it opens. He twists the handle and pulls it towards him with a firm hand, gaze focused solely on the actions of his limbs until suddenly, without warning, he looks up. He finds himself colliding with the deepest ocean he’s ever encountered - larger than the one he’s seen with his family as a child - its high tides rolling in and washing over him languidly before the salt and minerals bury into his skin and try to pull him back with them. 

 

“My bad!” The ocean creature says to him apologetically. Maybe he’s a siren or a merman or a sign that Harry needs to stop watching the Discovery Channel before he falls asleep. 

 

“Um.” It’s not very eloquent but Harry can’t stop staring at the man in front of him. Once he’s able to look away from the blue of his eyes he sees the pink tinge of a sunburn along his sculpted cheekbones, the sharp points of his canines and the swipe of a petal pink tongue against punch-stained lips. 

 

“Can I help - wait a minute,” the man stops, staring in wonder. “You’re Gracie’s dad, aren’t you?” 

 

Harry nods, ever so slightly. “You and her have the exact same eyes. And if that wasn’t enough to tip me off, it’s got to be the curls.”

 

It doesn’t help anyone that Harry’s now blushing furiously, skin warming against his compliments like a flower drifts towards the sun. “Thank you, erm -” 

 

“How rude of me! Acting all friendly because I recognize you when clearly you don’t know me.” _ I want to,  _ Harry wants to interrupt. “I’m Louis Tomlinson.” 

 

“Well, thank you Louis.” Harry bites his lip bashfully.

 

“Anytime. Now, I just saw your Gracie, so let me go find her.” Louis takes off around the room, passing a few other aides and sparing quick glances through the windows before he holds up his fist, victorious. He slips outside momentarily before returning with a bundle of sunshine in his arms. 

 

“Gracie!” Harry cries. He abandons his spot by the door in favor of skipping over and pulling his daughter into his open arms, missing the fond smile Louis sends his way. 

 

“She’s a sweetheart, she is. Never want to put her down, never want to make her sad.” Louis laughs as Harry blows raspberries on her pudgy arm. 

 

“I feel like that all the time,” Harry agrees. He rubs Gracie’s back softly as he turns back to face Louis. “So, are you new here? It’s just, I’ve never seen you.”

 

“I’ve been here about two weeks,” Louis explains. “But I usually take off before lunch, with classes and all. ’s probably why we haven’t ever run into each other before.”

 

“You’re still in university?” Harry wonders. It’s just, Louis looks so…  _ mature _ .

 

“Yep! Finishing up my third year. It’s great fun,” he says sarcastically. He opened his mouth, then closes it like he’s debating over what to say next. “Are you in school still, or?” 

 

“Oh! No, I, um. I never really made it past my second year,” Harry says. He tries to never sound upset about it, especially in front of Gracie. It’s not that he resents her at all, he really doesn’t, but if things were different and life didn’t move so fast he’d have loved to finish uni. 

 

“Why -  _ oh. _ Of course,” Louis says in understanding. Quickly, he adds, “You’re really not missing anything, anyways. It’s loads of work and not enough payoff. Plus, you know, with the economy being shit - sorry, Gracie,  _ sorry _ \- it’s questionable whether a degree will even help me get a real job once I’m finished.” 

 

“Thanks for the pep talk,” Harry laughs. “It’s fine, you know? I may not ever leave my job at the bakery, but it’s fun there and my boss is flexible because she knows Gracie needs me.”

 

“That’s good,” Louis affirms. Abruptly, he looks around like he’s just remembered there’s more people in the room than just Harry and Gracie. A toddler races by on his plastic tricycle and  two little girls are fighting over a doll dress. “Well, it was lovely to finally meet you Harry, father of the beautiful Gracie. Hopefully I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

 

“Of course,” Harry says, almost sad that Louis has to leave. “Sounds good.” 

 

Louis spares him and Gracie a quick wave goodbye before he runs off to monitor the children and Harry suddenly finds himself with no other reason to stay. He straps Gracie into her carrier and shields her head as he walks through the double doors and back towards home.

  
  


“How’s my baby?” Anne’s voice sounds tinny through the speakers of Harry’s phone, but if he squeezes his eyes shut tight enough and opens his ears wide he can imagine she’s sat right next to him on the couch.

 

“Mum, you already asked me that when I first picked up the phone.” Harry shifts on the sofa so that his feet are tucked under him and twirls a loose strand of hair around his finger. He looks out the window and notices the leaves are changing colors, green leaves phasing into golds and reds. He daydreams of wearing wool sweaters and cozy beanies, visiting pumpkin patches and cornfield mazes with Gracie.

 

“Yes, but I also know you, Harry. You’re too caught up with telling me about Gracie to remember that you have feelings, too.” And, well. Harry has the best mum ever, doesn’t he? His muscles settle and his cells relax with one whoosh of breath as he digs inside himself and finds that, oh yes, he does still have feelings. 

 

“I mean, I’m fine. It’s still tough, getting back to work and leaving Gracie at the daycare. But I know it’s the best solution for now.” Anne hums agreeably and Harry continues. “I guess, the hardest thing is doing it alone. Like, I’m not complaining because Grace is a gift and it’d be selfish to wish that Sarah were still here, since we both know she doesn’t want to be involved. I suppose it would just be nice to have someone to unwind with at the end of the day.”

 

“And that’ll happen for you, all in good time,” Anne reassures him. “You’re so young, Harry. Twenty-three and so responsible. You’ll learn to balance work and Gracie and eventually a partner as well. It’ll work out.” 

 

An unexpected wave of comfort washes over Harry, so relieving and necessary that it chokes him up. “Thanks mummy,” he whispers. He only lets a few tears fall onto his cheeks before he sniffs and blinks rapidly. 

 

“My darling, it’s okay to want more in life. Gracie would never be offended to know you wanted someone else in the family. It’s only natural and I’m sure she’d love whoever you bring home.” 

 

“Yeah, I know. She’s just my everything, isn’t she? I love her so much, mum.” Harry spares a glance at the baby monitor on the coffee table and sees that Gracie’s still asleep and suckling softly on her thumb. The rest of her limbs are splayed haphazardly across the bed like a starfish. 

 

“It shouldn’t be any other way. She’s such a lucky girl to have you, H.”

 

They finish up talking about their weeks, Harry remembering to take the time to ask his mum about what’s new in her life. As much as he knows he can talk for ages about whatever Gracie’s up to in her stages of life - and generally no one ever complains - he’s not so dense as to realize that he needs to be considerate around other people. His mum waves him off and skims over the time she’s been spending volunteering and mentions the dinner she had with Gemma and Robin.

 

“You’re next dear,” she says to him as a parting. “I was thinking I’d come down soon, take Gracie off your hands for the weekend if you want to make plans.” 

 

As Harry says the rest of his goodbyes and hangs up, he considers the offer. He could call Liam or Niall up to see what they’re doing; truthfully, he hasn’t been out to the clubs for a while and he could use the time to pull. Normally, Harry is comfortable knowing he hasn’t had sex in at least three months. He’s perfectly content with his hand and the vibrator he knows is hidden behind some junk in his nightstand. Except, sometimes he isn’t content. And that’s when he goes clubbing. 

 

**anyone up for a night out? x**

 

He sends off the text to the group chat between him, Niall, Liam, and Sophia. Niall’s been seeing Barbara for a while but he doesn’t want to jinx anything by adding her to something ‘so permanent’ just yet. 

 

_ ‘yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! _ ‘ Liam replies only seconds later. Harry laughs as another text, this time from Sophia, appears on the screen.

 

_ I’m visiting my family for the weekend so I’m out. But I expect there to be no funny business >:( _

 

**take your weirdo couple issues elsewhere. i just want to pullllll**

 

Harry locks his phone and turns it on silent, knowing Liam and Sophia will continue their banter regardless of his text. At least Niall’s a shoe-in. No matter how busy he gets, he always makes time to party. It’s one of his best qualities. 

 

-

 

By the time he’s washed all the dirty dishes, picked up Gracie’s toys from the sitting room and confirmed plans to go out with Niall and Liam this weekend, Harry can just hear the beginnings of Gracie’s wake-up routine. First, she always cries out softly, alarmed at waking up alone. Though at first he always came rushing to console her, Harry knows better now than to rush to her immediately. Next, she starts babbling softly to herself, stretching her tiny limbs towards her spinning mobile and blowing spit bubbles. She’s often content to spend her time discovering all the things she can do with her mouth. 

 

Eventually, Harry creeps into the dim bedroom, illuminated only by the sun peeking through the curtains, and picks up his baby. She quiets immediately in his hold and he kisses the very tip of her nose. 

 

“Hey little girl,” he says softly. He knees his way onto the bed and shifts until he’s propped up by the pillows and she’s lying pliantly on his chest. He stifles a soft laugh because he knows she’s just going to fall asleep again and he’ll be stuck in this position for at least another half an hour. 

 

It’s his absolute favorite time of day. 

 

Once they’ve both had a short, second nap, Harry lays Gracie on the ground on her play mat and fixes a bottle up for her. She takes it easily and only cries a bit when he has to burp her so she doesn’t have gas later. A quick change of her diaper and into a softer onesie that has shorter sleeves and they’re ready to go on their walk. Harry knows Gracie isn’t old enough to play at the play structure down the road, won’t be for at least two years, but he’ll be damned if they don’t do something together that doesn’t involve eating or sleeping or pooping. 

 

So, every evening he straps her into her pram and they take a walk down the street and into the smaller neighborhood that houses the swings and slides and monkey bars. There’s a nice patch of grass that Harry likes to lay a blanket on and let Gracie worm her way around it’s worn edges and nibble on her knuckles.

 

He brings a ratty, old copy of a book of poems written by Charles Bukowski to flip through while his daughter babbles at the clouds. Sometimes he’ll read them aloud and Gracie will stop in the midst of whatever new discovery she’s making and she’ll listen to her daddy’s voice, strong and smooth over the rushing wind. She blinks up at him with her wide eyes like she can understand every word.  _ You’re so wise, daddy! _

 

When twilight begins to fall and the sky is turning all shades of pink and orange, when Harry’s snapped a picture of the light peeking through the trees and posted it on Instagram (captioned:  _ all at once, like lights gone out, the sun leaves dark continents and rows of stone),  _ when Gracie is all snug and quiet in her pram, they head home. 

 

Sometimes, Harry relishes in the way their flat is silent save for the gentle hum of the refrigerator or the tinkling of Gracie’s mobile. Other times, like this on this night, his heart feels a bit heavier when they walk through the door and there’s no one on the other side to greet them or hold his hand when he wants to have a good cry after he’s put Gracie down to sleep. 

 

Nonetheless, there’s no question as to whether Harry would sacrifice his own romances for his daughter’s happiness and wellbeing. He supposes that’s what makes a good parent. At least, he’s trying to be. 

  
  


It’s a week before Harry runs into Louis again. It shouldn’t feel so monumental, really, all they did was have one conversation, but Harry found that he liked being able to talk to someone who didn’t talk down to him or pity him for his circumstances. 

 

“Hazza!” Louis calls him over. He’s got Gracie resting on his hip comfortably, somehow managing to still look like a male model. He sways Gracie back and forth and raises her little fist to plant lingering kisses on the pale skin. 

 

Harry approaches slowly, attempting to contain the enormous grin that’s threatening to overcome him. He knows it’s all over when the dimples emerge. 

 

“Hi beautiful,” Harry says, eyeing his daughter fondly. 

 

“Hey yourself,” Louis quips back. As soon as they’ve processed what he’s said, both Louis and Harry blush. Gracie, oblivious as anything, smacks her lips together and reaches out for her daddy.

 

“What a cutie,” Louis admires, watching as Harry holds Gracie tight to his chest as he settles her into the carrier already strapped to his chest. 

 

“She must take after me then,” Harry says almost hesitantly. The laugh that bubbles out of Louis is enough though to make him feel like whatever awkward tension there might have been has evaporated. 

 

“Well, I believe you must be a little full of yourself, Styles.” Louis says, absentmindedly grabbing onto one of Gracie’s feet.

 

“Just pointing out the facts, Lou,” Harry grins wolfishly. “How did things go today?”

 

“Well, you know, same old, same old. Though, Gracie did become a bit needy this afternoon after her nap. She’s been glued to me all day.” Gracie squawks, as if to say  _ I’m perfectly independent, thank you very much, _ before banging her head into Harry’s chest. 

 

“Careful,  Grace ,” Harry warns. He cradles her head in one of his palms before turning back towards Louis. “I’m sorry to hear that. Sometimes she gets like that when she wakes up and I’m not around. I think she forgets where she is for a moment and expects I’ll be there. I appreciate you indulging her.”

 

“Like it was such a hardship for me, Harry, honestly,” Louis rolls his eyes and smiles a small, private smile. “Besides, it’s hard to say no to such a beautiful face. She has the biggest, brightest eyes. It’s like she can see into my soul or something.”

Harry barks out a laugh before covering his mouth, conscious of the fact that Gracie hates loud sounds. “She gets that from her mum, I think. I’ve got no known specialty in soul reading.”

 

At that, Louis shifts his weight from one foot to another. He swipes nervously at his fringe before asking awkwardly, “Right. So, about her mother. Is she - is she in the picture?”

 

“Oh,” Harry responds, taken aback. It’s been a long time since anyone’s bothered asking about Sarah. Everyone’s just come to assume Harry’s on his own. “She’s never been. In the picture, that is. She never wanted this.” 

 

“That’s fucking terrible,” Louis practically growls. “I’m sorry, but has she even seen this face? How was she willing to give it all up?” 

 

“She wanted to give Gracie up for adoption, originally. I was the one who begged her to let me keep her.” Harry falters, suddenly very aware that they’re having this conversation in the middle of the nursery. He spares a glance at the rest of the room, but it appears that the aids are all managing to occupy the rest of the children. 

 

“Bullshit.” Harry’s come to realize, in their brief interactions, that Louis has a penchant for swearing that rivals any other caregiver. It’s almost endearing, in a way. “That’s rubbish, Harry, and I’m sorry you had to deal with that. I can imagine you’re grateful for how everything’s managed to work out though, yeah?”

 

“Oh, yes,” Harry says honestly. He genuinely can’t imagine a life without his daughter and he tells Louis as much.

 

“It’s really special, the bond you two have. I see it when you hold her. It’s - it’s magical.” Louis seems to realize the enormity of what he’s said and suddenly he’s blushing furious and his hands begin to fidget with his hair again.

 

“That’s very kind of you to point out,” Harry says. In a rare moment of bravery, he reaches out and places a hand on Louis’ bicep. “That’s exactly what keeps us going every day.”

 

Louis opens his mouth to respond when an aid rushes up and interrupts. “Louis, I’m sorry to bother, but Avery needs help going potty and I’m still trying to get Jessica to apologize to Will for stealing his favorite toy truck and I -“

 

“Liz? It’s fine. Go back to what you were doing and I’ll help Avery.” Louis gives her a stern look and she nods, flustered, before returning to the other side of the room. When he’s sure she’s doing what she’s supposed to, Louis turns back to Harry. “I’m really sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

 

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m sorry to have held you up.” Harry waves his hand dismissively but Louis shakes his head before he’s even done speaking.

 

“You could never hold me up, Styles. I’m expecting to pick up this conversation from where we left off the next time I see you, got it?” He’s walking backwards, away from Harry and Gracie, but he manages to artfully navigate his way around the toys strewn across the floor. 

 

“Got it,” Harry murmurs quietly, face threatening to break into what his sister affectionately calls the ‘creepy frog stare.’ He stands there staring for a moment longer before Gracie makes a soft noise in the back of her throat and startles him back into reality.  “Right, kiddo. Let’s get you home, shall we?”

 

-

 

The following Saturday, Harry’s mum surprises him by arriving a few hours earlier than planned, swooping in with a kiss to his cheek and an order to go out and run errands while she watches Gracie. 

 

“You’re an absolute lifesaver,” Harry tells his mum, wrapping her up in a tight hug. Suddenly, he feels like the child, grappling onto his mother and hoping she’ll be able to squeeze back into place the pieces of himself that have gotten so scattered the past few weeks. 

 

“Anything for my baby. And his baby,” she tacks on as an afterthought. They both chuckle dryly and Harry spares just enough time to scribble out a shopping list before he’s tugging on his boots and heading out the door.

 

He spends most of the afternoon shopping. Shopping for groceries, shopping for clothes for Gracie as she’s outgrowing most of her current pieces, shopping for himself. He breaks in a moment of weakness and slips discreetly into the lone sex shop near his flat and picks up a thick, pink plug that he thinks would feel quite lovely. The owner of the shop pays him barely any attention as he rings it up and even throws a sample bottle of lube in his bag for good measure. 

 

By the time he pushes open the door to his flat, he’s tired and weary at the thought of having to get ready and go out clubbing. He’s almost tempted to call the boys and cancel, but his conscious nags him and reminds him that he won’t have another chance to go out for a while. 

 

He sets down his bags on the kitchen counter before he wanders into his bedroom. There, his mum and Gracie are settled on the bed reading a Dr. Suess book. He can barely hear his mum’s voice from the doorway, but by the looks of it, she’s holding Gracie’s attention quite well. His baby is lax in his mother’s arms, thumb tucked gently into her mouth and eyes half-lidded. 

 

Neither of them notice him for a few minutes, until Gracie spares a glance towards the door and her thumb falls out of her mouth with a wet  _ pop _ . “Ooh wee!”

 

“Hi, darling,” Harry coos. He shuffles his way up onto the bed and lays his head down on the pillow next to his two favorite girls. His mother runs her fingers through his hair gently and Gracie places a sticky hand gently on his face. He grins so hard his cheeks ache but he’s feels so completely happy that he has to show it somehow. 

 

“Someone’s missed their daddy,” Anne says softly. She brushes the matted curls off of Harry’s forehead and his eyes droop shut. “She fussed a bit when she woke up without you here, but other than that we’ve had a lovely afternoon.”

 

“I’m glad,” Harry mumbles, mouth barely moving. Sleep begins to overwhelm him like a soft, familiar blanket.

 

“H, aren’t you going out tonight? Should I wake you before then?” He can hear the smile in his mum’s voice, though he doesn’t attempt to try and open his eyes to see it.

 

“Just…wake me before…eight.” Harry’s not even sure if what he just said was coherent but his mother just laughs and tells him to sleep, so he does. 

 

-

 

Harry  wakes up to a hand shaking his shoulder softly. “H, darling, it’s almost half-past eight.”

“Hm?” Harry smacks his lips a few times before his eyes follow suit and blink open, squinting at the harsh light. 

 

“’s time to get up?”

 

“If you’re still going out tonight, then yes. Your phone dinged a few times but I figured you’d take care of it when I woke you. I also took the liberty of putting your purchases away. I left the, uh, unmentionable item in your closet.” 

 

It takes Harry a moment to catch up, but when he realizes what she meant he squeals and throws the covers over his head. “Mum! Why would you snoop through my things?”

 

“Most sons would be thankful their mother didn’t punish them for keeping such paraphernalia in the house with an infant.”

 

‘It’s not like she’d find it! I’m so embarrassed now, I’ll never show my face again.” 

 

“Oh, come off it Harry. I found your browser history littered with gay porn when you were fourteen,  _ and _ I gave you a stern talking to in front of your sister and your father. I don’t think this is worse than that.” She unceremoniously rips the covers off him and ruffles his hair. “Now get up and go have some fun for once, old man.”

 

“No need to dig up forgotten memories,” Harry mumbles grumpily. He swings his feet over the side of the bed and waits for the dizzying sensation in his head to calm before he stands up and heads for the bathroom. On his way he grabs his phone and unlocks it to find a few texts from Niall and Liam reminding him of what time they’re all meeting at the club. 

 

He turns on the shower and hops in once the water is lukewarm, breezing through his shampoo and conditioning routine. Just thinking about what might happen tonight gets him a little excited, so he pulls out a quick orgasm to calm himself down and ensure that he’ll have good stamina if he does end up hooking up with someone later in the evening. 

 

Once he’s clean, he hops out and towel dries his hair before styling the curls and re-entering his bedroom with only a towel around his waist. He manages to find no shame as he dresses himself in his tightest, most fuckable jeans and a floral print shirt that he only buttons up to his navel. He has one thing on his mind tonight, and it’s a good lay. His mum gives him a disapproving once-over when he walks into the living room, but he ignores her in favor of eating a quick meal of leftover pasta and gathering his keys and wallet. 

 

“Don’t get into too much trouble tonight,” his mum chastises him. She counters her warning with a kiss on the cheek. “And if you’re kipping at someone else’s, shoot me a text so I know you’re safe.” 

 

“Will do,” Harry promises. He leans over to where Gracie is situated in her bounce chair and gives her three firm kisses, one on her forehead and two on her cheeks, before he finally leaves. “Love you both.” 

  
  


Three hours later, and Harry is drunk. He told himself he just wanted a good buzz, but once three different hot guys offered to buy him drinks, he figured he couldn’t pass up an opportunity. He spent most of the night chatting in a booth with Niall, Liam, and Barbara, but now in the late hour he finds himself on the dance floor, shoving his arse back against a handsome stranger whose hands are leaving unforgiving bruises on his hips.

 

“What a pretty little body,” the man whispers in his ear. Harry whimpers quietly and reaches behind himself in search of the man’s waist. He pulls him impossibly closer, seeking even more friction on his already throbbing arse. The pulse of the music replaces the pulse of his heart and takes over the rhythm of his body. 

 

“You want my cock?” The straightforwardness turns Harry on more than anything else he’s said so far, and he finds himself nodding eagerly. There’s no use in playing hard to get tonight. The stranger manhandles him so that they’re now facing each other, one of his legs slotted between both of Harry’s. 

 

“I can tell, baby,” the man continues. “You want it so bad. How long’s it been?” 

 

“Too long,” Harry mumbles, embarrassed. He burrows his head into the man’s collarbones to hide his blush. “Fucking need it.”

 

The stranger responds by gripping Harry’s asscheeks and shoving him down on the thick meat of his thigh. Harry garbles out a moan and takes the hint to start humping down on his leg, erection hard and confined by his jeans. The drag of the zipper and tight denim adds a delicious hint of pain and he finds himself chasing it, faster, harder. 

 

“What a slag, aren’t you? You’d come right here if I told you to, wouldn’t you? Right on this dance floor.” The man gives a quick slap to Harry’s right cheek, immediately smarting and making his knees weak. 

 

“Yes, yes,” Harry chants like a prayer. This charade lasts only a few moments longer before the man is grabbing Harry by the wrist and dragging him to the club bathroom. 

 

Their hands are both shaking as they shed their clothes, jeans puddled around their ankles and shirts haphazardly unbuttoned. Harry finds himself quickly bent over, hands barely providing support on the wall in front of him as he’s fingered open with minimal lube and a lot of teasing. His legs feel like they're about to give out when the man snakes an arm around his waist and sinks inside him with the carelessness of someone who’s had one too many drinks. The pain only serves to make Harry’s cock harder, and he’s begging for it by the time the man is balls deep and sucking a wine-red bruise into Harry’s neck.

 

“Fucking give it to me,” he whines as the man begins to thrust into him. “Make me take it.” 

 

Neither of them last long, which isn’t a surprise, but Harry’s orgasm hits him like a train. It’s fucked out of him when the stranger manages to continuously hit his prostate while also slapping his arse with a firm hand. He knows he’s going to have a hard time sitting down for the next couple of days but he finds himself wanting to remember this. He feels like he’s back in uni, no responsibilities and allowed to have fun and give up control. Instead of worrying about whether his daughter has a wet nappy or how he’s going to pay the heating bill, he finds his mind blissfully empty as he comes, white ropes coating his chest and some even hitting his chin. 

 

The stranger keeps pounding into him, grunting and groaning until he stills and shoots thick into the condom. It’s like a spell has broken when he pulls out, tying off the condom and throwing it onto the ground near the toilet before he puts his clothes back on. 

 

“Thanks for the lovely fuck, babe.” The man grips his neck possessively and kisses his cheek, before slipping out of the stall and back into the club. Harry stands there motionless for a short while, relishing in the post-orgasmic haze before he cleans himself up and shucks his clothes back on. He also splashes some cold water on his face for good measure. 

 

He feels a bit more sober as he walks back out and searches for his friends. He finds Liam cradling a beer by himself at the table and he falls weakly into the cracked leather of the booth. 

“Hey man,” Liam says gently. “How’d your night go?” 

 

Harry pushes his hair back off his sweaty forehead before he responds. “It went well, I think.” 

 

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

 

Harry knows Liam is referring to an easy hook-up, but he can’t help that his mind wanders to the idea of someone who’s in it for the long-haul, who wants him for his body and his emotional baggage. Someone that wants his  _ daughter. _ That’s what he’s looking for, in the grand scheme of things. But that’s too much heavy thought for his alcohol-muddled brain, so he goes with the simplest answer.

  
“Yeah, I did.”


	2. you're the rays on the waves that calm my mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which harry is a bashful cutie and louis finally gathers up the courage to ask him out <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh the second chapter is finally up! Thank you so much for all the kind comments on the first chapter; I'm so glad you're all enjoying the fic!

The next morning finds Harry unable to find the motivation to get out of bed, his head throbbing and mouth dry. He feels like his whole body has been stuffed with cotton, dry and lifeless. Weakly, he reaches around for his phone and finds it still tucked in his front pocket. It’s dead. 

 

When he rolls over to plug it in, he finds a glass of water and some paracetamol waiting for him on the nightstand and he washes it down gratefully. He honestly has the best mum. 

 

As if summoned by his thoughts, Anne appears in the doorway, carrying with her a full English on a tray along with Gracie in her baby bjorn. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

 

“Good morning,” Harry croaks back. He shifts himself up into a sitting position as his mum deposits the food on his lap and he wastes no time in stuffing his mouth with eggs. “This is delicious, mummy, thank you.” 

 

“Anytime,” she says lightly. She unhooks Gracie from her chest and sets her down gently next to Harry, using a few pillows to cage her in. As Harry eats, she picks up a laundry basket on the floor and starts folding clothes that she presumably washed earlier. 

 

“And you did laundry,” Harry says in awe. “You’re going to spoil us so much that I’ll forget how to function when you’re gone.” 

 

Anne laughs, soft and airy. She grabs a hanger from the closet and hangs up one of Harry’s collared blouses. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it again. So, how was your night?” 

 

Harry knows that she doesn’t have a clue what happened, but he still finds himself blushing furiously. “It was, uh, it went well. It was great catching up with Babs and the boys. ’S been awhile since we all got together.”

 

“That sounds lovely, dear. Did one of them give you that horrid bruise on your neck as well?” 

 

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Harry freezes with a fork full of potatoes halfway to his mouth. “Uh, well, I didn’t really -“

 

“Relax, H. I’m only teasing. I’m glad you had a good night and made it home in one piece. That’s all that matters, right?”

 

Harry hums his agreement, taking a moment to admire the way his daughter has been lying peacefully on the bed. She looks up at him for a second, smiling around her thumb and snuffling her nose. He feels a flash of guilt, suddenly, remembering how careless he was last night leaving her.

 

“Now don’t go pouting,” his mum says sternly. “I can see the gears turning in your head. I’m sure Gracie understands that her daddy needed a night to himself. She’s not even a year old, H, she can’t hold any animosity towards you.”

 

“I know that,” Harry says angrily. “I just feel like a fuck-up because I can’t manage to be happy doing this all the time. Why do I even need someone else in the picture? Gracie makes me so happy, so why am I so lonely?” 

 

Anne stops folding and comes around the bed to sit next to him. “Harry, you’re not at all a bad father because you want an intimate relationship with someone. Everyone has needs and it’s understandable that Gracie can’t give you everything. It’s okay to ask for help and it’s okay to want unconditional love from more than one person. I remember how crushed you were when Sarah left, and I know it was mostly because you wanted Gracie to grow up knowing her. But I also saw that you wished she had stayed for your sake. You didn’t just lose the mother of your child, you lost a companion.”

 

By the end of her speech, Harry’s eyes are wet and he wipes at them with the back of his hand. “I just feel like I could do better. I want to do better for her.”

 

“She knows how hard you’re trying, baby. She sees that every day. Now, she wants to see someone make you as happy as you make her.”

 

-

 

Though he selfishly begs her to stay for just a few more days, Harry’s mum leaves the next evening with a long hug and a promise to return soon. He and Gracie wave goodbye to her out the window and watch her drive away with heavy hearts. Gracie doesn’t fully understand what’s going on, but she’s subdued and quiet for the rest of the evening while Harry gets her ready for bed. Harry also finds himself moping for the rest of the evening, sprawled out on the couch and tipsy on cheap wine. By the time he stumbles into bed he’s sad and numb. 

 

The following week passes in the same manner. Harry’s still upset with himself for his behavior of the weekend and, true to his prediction, he’s struggling to find his usual balance between work and his daughter. The bakery has him working overtime and he’s broke because that means he has to pay the nursery more to watch over Gracie. It’s still two weeks before Sarah is due to transfer money into his account and he’s already resorting to eating microwave dinners. 

 

By the time Friday rolls around, Harry’s irritated and frustrated with everyone. He all but storms into the nursery, ready to get Gracie and go home where he can unwind with his favorite person. As he’s walking past reception and towards the infant/toddler room, the bathroom door to his right swings open and reveals Louis. 

 

“Hey mate!” He says animatedly. He reaches out and wraps his (tiny!!) hand around Harry’s forearm and gives him a warm smile. “Haven’t seen you in awhile, how’s it going?”

 

Harry fumbles for a moment, struck by how good Louis looks today. He’s only wearing a navy sweater and a pair of sinful black jeans, but he looks like sex on legs. He mustn’t have shaved for the past few days because his cheeks and chin are littered with soft brown scruff and his hair is quiffed this time into an artful swirl rather than his typical fringe. 

 

“I’m - I’m doing well. How are you?”  _ Jesus, Harry _ , he thinks.  _ Could you sound more like a robot if you tried? _

 

“I’ve gotta be honest with you, Curly, I could be better. I was just in the little lads room cleaning my hands because a two-year-old just wiped his shit everywhere. Children these days, am I right?” Louis smiles ruefully while Harry’s mind is still caught on his new nickname. 

 

“I’m sorry. That sounds shitty. Like, literally shitty.” At that, Louis barks out a loud laugh and shakes his head.

 

“I didn’t quite peg you for a pun lover, but I can see it now.”

 

“What can I say, a good pun is my specialty. They make for really good ice breakers.” 

 

Louis grins at him disbelievingly. “Well, consider the ice sufficiently broken. So, I assume you’re here to pick up Gracie?” 

 

“No, actually, I’m here to pick up my other child. Alex?” Louis stares at him in mock horror for a moment before shoving his shoulder. Harry giggles and coughs into his hand bashfully. “I’m also here to, uh, pay what I owe for the month?” 

 

“Yeah, of course. How about we do that first?” Louis turns on his heel and leads Harry back to reception. He slides in behind the desk and logs into the desktop computer, tapping away at the keys in concentration.

 

“Okay, so it looks like it’s going to be about five-hundred for the month. Are you paying with cash or card?” Louis looks up at him expectantly. 

 

“Card, please.” Harry digs around for his wallet and pulls out his card to hand to Louis. The other boy swipes it and frowns.

 

“Uh, that’s strange. One second,” Louis tries swiping the card again and his frown deepens. Harry worriedly pinches his lip between his fingers.  “So, it looks like you don’t have enough on the card to cover the balance,” Louis says regretfully. 

 

Harry’s jaw sets, hot tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Of course this would happen,  _ of course. _ It was probably all of the groceries he had to buy, the clothes for Gracie, the fucking  _ butt plug.  _ How could he have been so careless? 

 

“I’m, I guess I didn’t realize that I was so short this month. I’m so sorry, I might be able to call someone to help me out, this really -“

 

“Harry,” Louis says softly. He grabs Harry’s hand where it’s shaking on the countertop. “Listen, I’ll just extend your payment date to next week and you won’t have to worry, okay?”

Like a dam breaking, Harry lets out an ugly sob. He covers his mouth in horror, turning away so Louis doesn’t think he’s even more pathetic than he already was. He doesn’t expect it when he feels a pair of strong arms wrap him up and he cries even harder at that. 

 

“Hey, hey, listen to me. Hazza, it’s okay. We’re all going through tough times, yeah? Last week, I could barely afford all the textbooks I had to buy for the new semester and I looked like a proper fool when I asked the lady if there was some sort of discount for handsome, broke men.”

 

Harry lets out a wet laugh at that, furiously scrubbing his eyes with his fists. “I’m sorry. I look like a complete idiot.”

 

“No, you look like a wonderful father who works too hard. How about we go find Gracie, eh? She’ll cure that frown and you’ll feel loads better.” 

 

In that moment, Harry desperately wants to say  _ you make me feel better, _ but he keeps the words lodged in his throat and attempts to make himself look more presentable before Gracie sees him like this. It’s his job to be strong.

 

-

 

That night, Harry nearly bites his fingernails off before he finally gathers his wits and calls up Sarah. He’s never been one to beg for money, but she’s his last chance. He has absolutely sworn off asking his mum to help him when he knows she’s struggling to pay for Gemma to get her master’s degree. At least with Sarah he knows that, on some level, she owes him. 

 

“Hello?” Sarah picks up on the third ring. She sounds like she’s been laughing, voice breathless and happy. It reminds Harry of when he first met her, doubled over laughing at a joke said by one of his roommates at uni. She wasn’t even an ugly laugher, he had noticed. She was cute as all hell as she wiped tears from her eyes and fought off leftover giggles with a gentle press of the back of her hand to her mouth. 

 

He hates that he’s going wipe any trace of a smile off her face.

 

“Hey,” Harry says slowly. “It’s me.” 

 

“I do have a thing called caller i.d. now, H, I had a bit of a clue. What’s up? Everything alright?” She’s more serious now, more blunt. Harry tries not to take offense; she’s never been one to beat around the bush.

 

“Everything’s fine, the baby’s fine.” Harry has a habit of leaving out Gracie’s name from their conversations. Sarah never liked the name Gracie and insisted Harry change it, even though he told her she gave up the right to name her child when she decided she didn’t want to keep it. “But I did go to pay the nursery my monthly due, and basically, I fell a bit short.” 

 

“You fell short? I recall transferring you money three weeks ago,” she says. There’s no trace of accusation in her voice (yet); she sounds genuinely confused. 

 

“Well, you did, but I had to buy groceries and, erm, new clothes? It just cost a bit more than I expected, is all.” Through the monitor, Harry hears Gracie makes a garbled noise and he gets distracted for a moment, looking through the small camera to make sure she’s not about to wake up. By the time he tunes back into the conversation, Sarah’s already been speaking.

 

“…not even contractually obligated to send you money and now you’re asking for more?” Sarah’s frustrated, Harry can tell. She’s all fun and games until you ask for too much or push too hard. “Harry, I really am sorry, but I can barely afford my own rent this month. I just don’t have enough to send you any more than our agreed amount.” 

 

“Yeah, I guess I understand.” They’re both quiet for a moment. Harry plays worries his bottom lip and he can hear another voice through the speaker, distantly, and assumes Sarah has been distracted for the moment.

 

When she speaks again, her voice has softened. “Harry, you know I’d help out in any way that I can, but it’s just not going to work out this month. I’ll see what I can do to arrange my funds and maybe, if everything at work goes alright, I can send you a bit more next time around.”

 

“That’s - that would be wonderful, S.” Harry scrubs a hand down his face and tries not to sound too overeager. “I really appreciate it.” 

 

“It’s not a promise,” Sarah warns him. “But I’ll keep you updated.”

 

They don’t talk for much longer. Sarah manages to ask a bit more about Gracie and Harry’s careful not to overshare. He tells her briefly of her progress with eating soft foods and how he’s trying to make her first word the same as his: cat.

 

By the time they’ve hung up, Harry’s feeling a bit more hopeful. At least he can sleep knowing he explored all of his options.

  
  


“Harry, we’ve got to stop running into each other like this.” He haphazardly wipes his hands on his pants before extending it towards Harry. 

 

It’s Monday morning, and Harry’s just caught Louis exiting the men’s restroom. For the second time. It’s unclear who’s more embarrassed by the predicament. 

 

“Let me guess, another - erm - bowel incident?” Louis laughs, long and loud.

 

“Something like that. Hey, listen, about last week. I hope you didn’t think I was trying to take pity on you or anything. I know some people get really sensitive about that kind of thing, myself included; however, I also know the feeling of needing a little help sometimes.” Harry swallows past the lump in his throat, touched that Louis even felt the need to clarify his actions.

 

“No, I - I get where you’re coming from. And to be honest, I would’ve still understood if you did it purely out of pity. It means a lot though, that you told me.” Harry reaches out to grab Louis’ hand before his brain has even managed to catch up. By the time it does, he’s witnessing Louis blush furiously and nervously fix his fringe. 

 

“Of course. You’re welcome.” 

 

They stare at each other in silence for a moment before they both realize the absurdity of the situation. Harry lets his hand fall back to his side and murmurs a quiet apology that’s immediately disregarded by Louis.

 

“Hey, none of that ‘I’m sorry’ nonsense anymore, got it?” Harry nods bashfully and bites his lip. Louis continues, “I’ve actually been wanting to ask you something.”

 

“Why haven’t you?” Harry cocks his head.

 

“Well, see, I haven’t had the balls until now.” Harry snorts in response but gestures for Louis to continue. “But I was wondering if, maybe, you wanted to - to hang out sometime?” 

 

At that, Harry startles. “You want to go on a date with me?”

 

“Jesus, Curly, jump to conclusions why don’t you?” Louis snaps back. 

 

“So you’re saying that’s not what you meant?” Harry’s head is spinning but the warmth in his cheeks and chest feels like a promise of something hopeful.

 

“That’s exactly what I meant but I’m a little offended you swiped my poor attempt at wooing you under the rug and beat me to the chase.” Louis’ is blushing but he looks pleased with himself, if the smug smile on his face is anything to go by. 

 

“I guess I’m just always one step ahead of you,” Harry grins.

 

“Wouldn’t that be the dream,” Louis muses. “So we’re on for a date? I can tell people that I bagged the fit Harry Styles?”

 

“You think I’m fit?” Harry knows for certain that his frog face is showing but he can’t help it. It’s like, his brain didn’t even think of him and Louis being a possibility until the other boy mentioned it.

 

Louis mimes zipping his lips shut and throwing away the key. “That’s confidential information, Styles. Can’t tell you.” 

 

Once the two boys have exchanged numbers (Louis’ contact as ‘ _ Louis lion emoji Tomlinson’  _ and Harry’s as ‘ _ kissy face emoji peach emoji’)  _ and numerous sneaky glances, Louis walks Harry to the door and gives his bum a pat on the way out.

 

“Bold move, Tomlinson. Before the first date, really?” Harry keeps eye contact with Louis as he walks backwards out of the nursery. 

 

“I guess I’m a bold guy,” Louis shrugs, grinning so hard the skin around his eyes crinkles. 

 

-

 

It’s a week of near constant texting before Louis actually brings up The Date again. Harry’s not sure if it’s because he got cold feet or he’s taking it slow for Harry’s benefit, but whatever the reason, he’s more than ready for it.

 

This is how it happens:

 

It’s a rainy Tuesday morning and Harry’s been working in the kitchen since his shift started. Usually, Barbara lets him deal with customers up front; however, she’s been claiming her old age has hindered her ability to make a decent batch of cake pops and has insisted Harry take over. 

 

He’s been hunched over icing tiny frosted balls for an hour and he’s cranky and tired and covered in flour and chocolate ganache. Gracie woke him up at 4 a.m. and threw a fit when Harry tried to dress her in one of her new winter jumpers. In his haste to get her to daycare he forgot his headband to keep his hair out of his face so now it’s sweaty and matted and, to top things off, he recently discovered that he was scheduled to work a catering event the following evening and has no idea what to do about a sitter. 

 

It is at this moment that Louis decides to visit Harry. 

 

Harry hears hushed conversation coming from the front of the shop but it’s drowned out by the gritty voice of Paul Simon spilling from the speakers situated in the corner of the kitchen. 

 

He powers through the last of the cake pops before dropping the piping bag and stretching his back. Just after he’s let out what some may consider a moan to be worthy of a porno, a quiet chuckle comes from the doorway. 

 

“Louis!” Harry drops his arms and wipes his hands on his apron. “What are you doing here? You know where I work?”

 

The last comment makes Louis blush. “You said you worked in a bakery near the nursery and I remembered seeing this place when I first applied for my job. I took the tube but I got lost and ended up getting off at the wrong stop and I - I should stop talking,” he concludes, breathless. 

 

“Well, I’m glad you came.” 

 

“It’s not weird?” ‘Weird’ is not the first word Harry would use upon seeing Louis Tomlinson standing in the bakery kitchen. He tells him as much and the blue-eyed boy smiles with relief. 

 

“I hope you’re not offended though, I still have to finish up here.” Harry gestures to the table littered with frosting, crumbs, and batter. 

 

“Not at all, I just wanted to pop in and say hi, I suppose.”

 

“Well, by all means, take a seat. You can keep me company. As long as you have nowhere you need to be?”

 

“Nah, I have the day off. I’m fully prepared to see how well you can bake, Styles. Impress me.” 

 

Louis lifts himself up onto an empty patch of the counter along the far wall, pulling his legs to his chest before criss-crossing them. Harry has to bite back a fond sigh, instead ducking his head and smiling at the mess of pastry.

 

“Challenge accepted.”

 

It’s one of the better afternoons that Harry’s had lately. He’s able to finish the cake pops and start on prep that needs to be done for tomorrow’s bakes, all while listening to Louis talk about his day and occasionally interject with an anecdote of his own. The conversation flows so easily between them, comfortable when maybe it really shouldn’t be. They haven’t had many face-to-face exchanges before this, but Harry figures that their mass texts have helped prepare them for this moment.

 

At one point, Harry talks about how stressed he’s been lately and mentions in passing the issue of not having a babysitter for the following night. He barely has time to get the words out before Louis is interrupting with a forceful “I’ll do it.” 

 

“What?” Harry turns from where he’s washing dishes at the sink. Louis blinks back at him and repeats himself, simple as that. 

 

“Lou, I can’t ask you to do that.”

 

“You didn’t ask me, Harry. I offered because I would be more than happy to help you out.” Louis watches him carefully as Harry crosses the room and rests his hands on the steel worktop on either side of Louis. 

 

“That would make that two times that you’ve helped me in a major way and zero times that I’ve done something for you in return,” Harry pouts.

 

Louis leans forward - lips dangerously close to Harry’s - and speaks slowly and deliberately. “Then let me take you out this weekend and we’ll call it even.” 

 

Ah, there it is. Harry knocks his forehead against Louis’ before leaning back and biting his forefinger to keep from grinning like an idiot. “Alright,” he mumbles agreeably.

 

“Well jesus, Harry, don’t act so excited,” Louis says sarcastically. 

 

“I’m  _ so _ overjoyed to be going on a date with you, Lou, I can’t contain it!” Harry skips a lap around the kitchen before finishing the performance off with a wobbly pirouette and a curtsy. 

 

“Much better,” the older boy laughs. He reaches out and tugs on an errant curl next to Harry’s face. “You sure know how to make a man feel special, Styles.” 

  
  


“Harry, it just so happens that I watch your daughter almost four days a week; I  _ think _ I’ll manage an evening without your detailed list of instructions.” 

 

Harry falters in the midst of his spiel about how Gracie only takes her formula if it’s first been warmed for ten seconds in the microwave. He’s been waving around a two-page rundown of Gracie’s nighttime routine since Louis arrived at the door, winded and five minutes late.

 

“I know that. Of course I know that. I'll just - I’ll leave the list on the table, just in case.” Harry sets it down gingerly and ushers Louis to the bedroom where Gracie is quietly watching her mobile from inside her crib. 

 

It doesn’t even register that it should be odd he’s also showing Louis where  _ he _ sleeps at night, until Louis remarks, “nice sheets.” 

 

His sheets are rumpled and haphazardly tucked into the mattress, off-white and speckled with little pink flower buds. It’s just, Harry never realized how expensive duvet covers were and he found this at a second-hand shop, cheap and the least likely of the bunch to not be covered in weird stains or smells. 

 

“Thanks, I guess,” is all he says to Louis. He keeps moving until he gets to Gracie’s crib and lifts her up, careful not to bump her head on the mobile where it’s still spinning. 

 

“Hey pretty girl,” Louis coos. Harry hands her off to him, making extra sure Louis’ got a tight grip before he lets go. 

 

“So she’ll stay up about an hour after dinner, but then she’ll be ready for bed. We usually read a book or two on my bed and then we cuddle until she’s closed her eyes.” Telling Louis of their bedtime routine is like spilling some kind of secret and he’s not sure why. But by the way Louis’ eyes soften around the edges, Harry knows he understands on some level.

 

“That’s really sweet, Styles.” He hitches Gracie higher up on his hip and kisses her fingers. “I’ll make sure we save time for that.”

 

“Thank you, Louis. I’m so thankful you’re here.” 

 

“Harry, it’s literally no problem at all. There’s a reason I work with kids for a living; I love them.” Louis rolls his eyes and grips Harry’s forearm, guiding him towards the front door. “Now go, or else I’m certain you’ll be late.”

 

Harry reluctantly opens the door, turning just once to kiss Gracie on the crown of her head. “Have a good night.”

 

“Don’t you worry about us, Hazza. We’ll have a great time.”

 

It’s one of the few times Harry’s left Gracie that he doesn’t feel guilty. 

 

— 

 

The rest of the evening passes by in a blur. Harry helped Barbara make all the cakes earlier in the day, but it’s still important they stay during the event to monitor the transportation and serving. It’s one of his less favorite parts about his job, mostly because it involves a lot more interaction with people. He definitely didn’t sign up anywhere to become a caterer, but nights like these sure feel like he did. 

 

Once the cake and other various pastries have been served, Harry stands with Barbara in the back of the kitchen while they each eat a slice of their own creation.

 

“I swear Harry, this buttercream frosting gets better every time you make it.” Barbara hums contentedly around a mouthful of cake, dabbing at the bits that get stuck around her lips with a napkin.

 

“Says you who makes the best angel cake. It’s so moist.” 

 

“It’s all about the simply syrup; I swear by it.” 

 

They grin at each other through crumb coated lips and fingers and Barbara even ventures into the pantry where they find an unopened bottle of cheap white wine. They each share a few sips, giggling like school children as they head back towards the counter where they work on packing up their equipment. 

 

The event wraps up shortly thereafter and the pair head back to the bakery where they drop off and clean the equipment. With some work still needing to be done, Barbara insists that Harry take off early and allow her to finish closing up shop. Being the polite boy he is, Harry puts up a fuss until Barbara reminds him that there’s a certain blue-eyed beauty waiting for him at home. 

 

After that, Harry leaves quite willingly.

-

 

 

Slow and quiet, Harry eases open the door to his flat and shuts it gently behind him. One glance around the room tells him that Louis is either in the bathroom or…Harry’s bedroom.

 

It’s only half past ten, but as Harry stops in the doorway to his room he finds Louis tangled up in his bedsheets and fast asleep. And. Harry’s torn between letting him sleep there forever and crawling in beside him and pretending like it’s a normal thing that they do every day. 

 

He peeks over at his little girl,  _ suck suck sucking _ on her pacifier. For a moment, he admires her little eyelids, almost translucent where they shine under the moonlight and her incredibly long eyelashes that twitch ever so slightly. Oh, if only Harry could worm his way into her dreams. 

 

After sparing another longing glance at Louis, Harry gathers his wits and steps back out into the hallway. He stops to put away his shoes in the rack by the door and does a bit of housekeeping. He refolds the throw blanket on the couch and lights a few scented candles in the kitchen where the smell of sweet, sticky formula still lingers. He cleans the bowl of half-eaten cereal that’s been sitting there since morning and heats up enough water in the kettle for two mugs of tea. 

 

When he’s finished, Harry heads back into the bedroom where Louis now has his face smushed into the pillow and looks so endearing that Harry has half a heart not to wake him up at all. Eventually, after standing and staring at him for too long to be considered appropriate, Harry walks over and kneels on the ground so that he’s level with Louis.

 

“Louis,” he whispers reverently. He gives his shoulder a little shake and rubs his thumb in soothing circles over the sharp edges of his collarbone.

 

Louis frowns a bit and smacks his lips together lethargically. After a moment, he cracks open one eyelid. Harry knows the moment he realizes where he is because, in a flash, Louis is sitting upright in bed and swinging his feet over so that they hit the floor. 

 

“Harry!” He says in surprise, fingers rapidly combing through his disheveled hair. “Hey, I’m  _ so _ sorry, honestly, I was lying here making sure that Gracie wasn’t going to wake up and need me and I guess I must have lost track of -“

 

“Louis,” Harry stresses, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on his chest to settle him. “Don’t apologize, okay? I’m not mad at all.”

 

“I feel like bloody Goldilocks when she’s caught by the three bears.”

 

“I’m insulted, Louis Tomlinson. Are you calling me a bear?” Louis just looks at him, amused. 

 

“Well, if we’re being honest, I see you more as some kind of toad.”

 

“A toad!” Harry exclaims. “First he falls asleep in my bed and now he’s comparing me to an amphibian!”

 

“Lower your voice, Croaky, or you’ll wake up your daughter.” Louis stands and pauses to stretch his arms above his head, shirt lifting to reveal a sliver of tanned tummy. Harry swallows thickly before he remembers to avert his eyes.

 

The two of them head back out into the kitchenette where Harry hands Louis his tea and receives a big smacking kiss on his cheek in return. Louis sits on the barstool, feet swinging back and forth, while Harry leans on the other side of the island countertop. They talk quietly for a bit, Louis giving him the rundown on his night with Gracie.

 

“I don’t know how you don’t just cuddle her all night long. She’s like a furnace, Haz, a beautiful, toasty-warm furnace.” 

 

“Some nights I let her sleep with me,” Harry admits. “When she was first born I was really interested in, erm, co-sleeping? It’s obviously geared towards nursing mothers so the baby can breastfeed whenever they need, but. I think I was just so scared in the beginning that she’d need me and I wouldn’t be able to get to her fast enough.” 

 

Louis slurps up the last dregs of his tea before setting the mug on the counter. “I find it very admirable, how much you’d do for her.”

 

“She’s my everything,” Harry says, seriousness coloring his tone. “She deserves the world.”

 

Louis looks at Harry for a long, lingering moment. His eyes flit first to his lips, up to his eyes, and back down to his mouth. Harry stands stalk still, a rose-colored flush working its way up to his cheeks. The moment dissolves when a garbled cry floats down the hall. 

 

“Oh, she must be hungry again,” Harry murmurs, but he doesn’t move from where he’s standing.

 

With a great heaving sigh, Louis hops off of the stool and circles the counter to reach Harry. He leans in close, breath fanning across Harry’s face, and plants a small peck to the corner of his mouth. 

 

“Thanks for the tea,” he smirks, walking to the door and slipping on his Toms. 

 

“Thanks for the - erm, everything.” It’s impossible to express his gratitude for Louis’ presence, not only for tonight but for all the other afternoons he’s spent with Gracie. 

 

“Anytime, stud. You’ll have to make it up to me on our date this weekend.” Louis pauses, brow furrowing. “That sounded dirtier than I meant it to be, but I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

 

“I’ll definitely wont,” Harry says coyly. “But I wouldn’t mind if you were to hold something against  _ me _ .”

 

“Cheeky bastard.” Louis blows him one last kiss and slips out the door. Just like that, it’s quiet again. 

 

Well. There may be an infant in the back room demanding Harry’s attention who he may have forgotten about for a few seconds. Quickly, Harry whips up a bottle and glides into his bedroom where his daughter has pulled herself up into some sort of crouching position. 

 

“Hey there, my little rose.” Gracie’s face is red and strained, her whining having blown out into a desperate cry. Her little fists are clenched around the bars of her crib and her tiny feet are getting crushed by her backside. 

 

Harry plucks her out of her crib and settles the two of them on the bed where he finally quiets her down by handing her the bottle. She’s at the age where she thinks she can hold it by herself but truthfully she’s just shy of being strong enough. To compromise, Harry grips the base with two fingers while Gracie rests her hands around the middle. 

 

“I’m going on a date this weekend,” Harry says to his daughter. He studies her face for any sign of disapproval. “I hope you’re okay with that. I love you so very dearly and I don’t want you to think for a second that you aren’t enough for me because you  _ are.  _ But Louis - you’ve met Louis - he’s a really nice guy. I think, erm, he might like me? I want to pursue things with him but I promise I’ll drop it if you don’t like him.”

 

At the end of his monologue, Gracie’s expression remains unchanged and it’s unclear whether or not she’s even heard him. Her eyes are drooping as she sucks the last remains of the formula and her little hands have long since fallen to her sides. 

 

“I promise, little bug, I’m going to give you the best life. You’ll always have me, no matter what.”

 

As if she’s finally acknowledging him, Gracie hums in the back of her throat and reaches up to wrap his pinkie in her miniature fist before closing her eyes and succumbing to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are much appreciated :)

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are much appreciated ! :) more chapters to come


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